He Used To Write Poetry
by The Blitzkrieg Buffoon
Summary: What if, what if Rosalie Octavius hadn't died? What if Otto got a happy ending? What if? [k for some language later on]


**A what if? story. What if Rosalie Octavius hadn't died? **

Anddd, this is going to be pretty short. Maybe only three chapters or so. Give or take, depends on how short each chap will be, each one is just gonna... I dunno. Be cut off pretty quick, but the chapters will be uploaded fast so, it should be done by the end of next week. I knoooow I should be doing my X-Fics but I thought this up last night, and I just... It had to be done. D: Had to. It'll probably be pretty quick, but somehow... I just really wanted Otto to have a happy ending. :)

And for once in my life, no OC's. Just the characters from the movie. :O GASP.

Alrighty, here we go, this one is gonna be good, I promise, let's see how I do without a character i've thought up myself, HAHA! PROBABLY TERRIBLE. :P

I do not own, Spiderman(his secret Identity), Aunt May, Otto Octavius, Rosalie Octavius, Mary-Jane Watson, or anyone else from the Spiderman franchise. That wonderful creation is owned by the godly Stan Lee. :3

* * *

It was complete chance that Peter Parker happened to be cleaning out his room that rainy afternoon. Mary-Jane had left about half an hour ago to get ready for another showing of the play, and Peter had little to do that night. So, he decided to clean out his room. And it was indeed in need of cleaning. There was a stack of newspapers from two weeks ago and days after that piled in a corner. The grey afternoon wore on, the rain pattering against the windowsill. He found himself skimming through a few of the papers, mostly the ones that had to do with Otto Octavius. 

It had only been about a week and a half since the fight on the pier, when Otto had sacrificed himself to rescue the rest of the city. 'Spiderman', had given Peter an exclusive story on what had happened on the pier, and Mary-Jane confirmed that what he said was true.

Things had been going very well, several papers, the Bugle excluded, had used the story Peter and Mary-Jane had told them, and most people beleived them. Though there were the die-hard Bugle fans that still beleived Octavius was a mad scientist who was out on a crazy mission. Many beleived him to be dead, the conspiracy theorists were already building websites dedicated to; 'Finding Dock Ock'. Peters favorite so far had to be; 'RESSURECT THE TENTACLES!'

Peter's thoughts whirred as he looked at the pictures of Otto throughout the papers, the articles, the artists sketches, everything. They hadn't found the body yet, though the search was slowing down considerably, it shouldn't be this difficult to find a body with four extra limbs.

Peter found himself rolling his eyes a little at the thought, but continued to sift through the papers, until one in particular caught his eye. It was from four days after the accident. The headline was, of course, 'Doc Ock Robs Bank, Spidey Fails to Catch Perp!'. But a sub heading, smaller, near the corner, read; 'Wife of Criminal in Critical Condition'. He sat back on his butt and skimmed through the article, stopping at a small spot near the middle.

_Rosalie Octavius, wife of reknowned scientist and criminal, Otto 'Doc Ock' Octavius, has been in the hospital since being struck with several shards of glass during her husband's presentation of a new invention. In critical condition, she has been struck on the neck, shoulders, and face, Doctors say she may pull through, and is, as of Sunday, in stable condition... _

It continued on, talking about her work on several books she had published, and her relationship with Octavius. He wondered if she'd made it, and why it wasn't bigger in the news. He assumed all the hype on Doctor Octopus might have put that in the dust. He moved through the papers again, finding one from several days later. This one had another article, exclaiming that Rosalie Octavius had been stablised and taken out of intensive care. Two days later, she was released from the hospital and was allowed to go home.

For a moment, Peter sat there, before the knowledge hit him.

She wasn't really dead.

Peter Parker stood in the elevator in the big apartment building, several people around him, a little girl with pigtails holding the hand of a grey-haired man in a tweed jacket, a body-builder and a small woman who were holding hands, and a gawky looking boy who reminded Peter of his own highschool days. They all slowly got off until he was left alone, the elevator music beginning to bore into his skull. The ding of the elevator door opening woke him up, and he got off and walked down a short hallway. He stopped at a wooden door with a gold handle and stared at it. It seemed forever ago he had walked to this door with Otto Octavius, when it had really just been a few short weeks. Listening quietly for a moment, he heard something that sounded distinctly like Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. He knocked, and after a second the music silenced, he heard the steps of sock covered feet, and then the doorknob turned.

The door swung inwards, revealing Rosie Octavius. She looked much more tired since Peter had last seen here, there were scars along her neck and two on her face. Long, jagged scars, but they seemed to be fading. She wore a bright shawl and warm colored clothes, her hair was loose around her thin face and elegant neck. Her face brightened upon seeing him.

"Peter Parker!"

"Hello." he waved a bit. "How are you?" she nodded a little, smiling lightly. "Coping. You?" he shrugged. "Oh, you know. I figured out if I have a girlfriend. So thats new." that got a small laugh from her. "Thats good. Oh, would you like to come in? I was just making some tea." he nodded. "Sure."

He stepped inside the door, into the Octavius living room. It was just about exactly like he remembered, albeit a tiny bit messier. Newspapers covered the little coffee table in front of the television, along with photo albums and sheets upon sheets of wrinkly, faded paper. Rosalie closed the door and hurried towards the kitchen, dissappearing behind a small corner. Her voice carried in from the other room.

"Have a seat, and i'll get the tea." he aquiesced and sat down on the brick red sofa. Everything in the apartment was warm colors, reds, golds, browns, and yellows. It gave him a comforting feel. He sat for a moment, before curiousity got the better of him, and he leaned in to skim through one of the faded sheets of paper.

_Red roses and boxed chocolates,  
the stars and the moons,  
warm fires and cozy nights,  
hot summers and skies of blue,  
if I could build my own world,  
I would give it all to you. _

_Fantasy books and science texts,  
would fill our comfy world,  
we'd read and learn,  
and face each day, early, bright, and new,  
if I could build my own world,  
i'd do it all with you._

_Warm milk and cookies before each night,  
sitting alone with you,  
we'd spend each day learning brand new things,  
you would learn from me,  
of course I would learn from you.  
And if I could build my own world, it would be just me and you._

"He wasn't a very talented poet, was he? But he didn't do too bad." Peter looked up, meeting the sad gaze of Rosalie. "Oh... Uh, i'm sorry. I just-"

"Curiousity. I know. You wouldn't be the first. There have been plenty of reporters come to get statements from me on my husband. I had to fight a fair few who tried to take some of them." something about that absolutely apalled Peter. "Thats awful. How could they..." but he already knew the answer. Reporters could sometimes be absolute assholes.

"He used to send me anonymous poetry." a dimpled smile ran across her face. "He was far too nervous to ever actually sign them. I kept every one you know." she took a sip of her own drink. "When did you two actually, you know, get together?" Rosalie closed her eyes, remembering.

"Well, of course you know we met on the college steps..."

_"Whoa!" the books in his hands tumbled to the ground, one on advanced physics falling open at the foot of the stone steps. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!" a thin hand with pink nails picked up the physics book and held it out to him as he gathered the heavy texts. "Oh, thankyou!" he looked up at her from his kneeling spot on the steps. His immediate thought was that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was thin and graceful, with an elegant look about her long neck and high cheek bones. Her auburn hair hung in a straight sheet down her back. There was a bag hooked over one shoulder, and she held a single book labelled T.S. Elliot.  
__  
She took him in, he was pudgy and funny looking, with a chocolate brown bowl-cut and thick square glasses. He wore a green sweatervest and clutched the books in his arms as if they were very dear to him. He held out his hand to take the book back and she handed it to him. There was something... Cute about him, that made her melt a little inside. _

She was so pretty. She really was, he blurted before he could stop himself. "My name's Otto." he stood, his ears heating up, inside he knew they were turning bright red. She smiled, giggling a little. "My name's Rosalie. But everyone calls me Rosie. It's nice to meet you, Otto." ROSIE, a beautiful name. Perfect for her. She smiled again. "Sorry for knocking your books down. I was in such a rush and-" "It's ok! Really. Nothing harmed." he knew he was red, red as the shirt she was wearing. She smiled again, then gasped. "Oh no! I'm late for class! I've got to go, maybe i'll see you later, Otto!" she ran off, up the stairs and through the oak double doors. He stared after her, heart all a flutter.

"He told me, years into our marriage that he snuck into the college files to find where my dorm was." she was laughing a little now. "He sent me poetry, love letters. He never signed any of them. Sometimes we'd see each other on the way to classes and he always turned bright red when we said hello." Peter noticed a sad sort of twinkle in her eyes. They shone with tears fighting to break through. "It wasn't until our second year when he finally worked up enough courage to ask me for coffee..."

_He'd been just about to slide another note under her door when she opened it, and saw him. She smiled. "Hello, Otto! What brings you here?" his entire face went beat red, the note crumpled quickly in his hand. "I... Uh... Um... Er... Rosalie, I... I... Would you... Maybe like to, uh..." he mumbled something she could barely hear. "Otto?" he looked up slightly. "Rosie.. Would you like to.. um, get coffee sometime, maybe?" she smiled broadly. "Yes! I would. We could do our homework together, huh?" he smiled. "Yes, when?" "How about Sunday..." _

"My friends thought I was crazy, dating a physics student with a fixation for Oreo's." a single tear had slipped down her face, but she wiped it away and smiled. "But, enough about those things. Peter, who is this girlfriend of yours?" Peter smiled as well. They talked for a long time, keeping it to simpler things that didn't pertain to Otto. Peter didn't even think of looking at his watch until his mug of tea was empty, and even the dregs were gone.

"Wow, is that really what time it is?" Rosalie looked up at the clock. "Goodness, time flies when your having fun, doesn't it?" he laughed. "I guesso. I'd better go, though, never actually did finish cleaning out my room.." they both stood, and headed for the door.

"It was really nice talking to you again. I'm glad your doing better." she smiled somberly. "Yes." Rosie reached for one of the scars on her neck. Peter was about to go when he heard her voice.

"Peter?" he turned. "Yes?" "You photograph Spiderman, right?" he nodded. "Yeah." "Well... If you happen to see him, could you tell him that, if he sees Otto, to tell him to come home?"

The question struck Peter. Did she truly beleive he was still alive? Somehow, was still out there? But instead of questioning her, he nodded. "Yeah. I deffinatly will."

"Thankyou."

She shut the door.

* * *

**Oh my GOD I did not expect this to be so long. :P I feel ashamed. This was supposed to be a story made of drabble chapters, what have I done?! XD Really, did not intend for it to be this long. GOD what's wrong with me?**

And because i'm a loser: I'm unbeleivably proud of that poem. I spent like... a long time on that. Somehow I can imagine Otto being a total romantic, sending poems and love letters and the like. I mean hell, if I was a man in his situation, I would totally do that, spend time pouring over poetry books in the library and learning how they DO IT. But I didn't actually DO THAT in this situation, I sat here for about an hour and forty-five minutes and edited and reedited that thing until it was ACCEPTIBLE. -whimper- I'm also handing it into the school newspaper, maybe they'll print it. XD I'm so MESSED UP.

Anyway, next chapter should be up... I dunno. Sometime tomorrow night, or maybe the night after. I write better when it's dark out, for some reason. Whatever. It'll be up soon and when i'm done I'LL GET STARTED ON MY X-FICS I SWEAR IT ON MY BLOOD. ):

--Blitz

P.S. Changed my Screenname, guys:D  
P.S.S. And yeah, this story totally proves I do like canon pairings. XD


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